


The Width of the World

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Bisexual Alexander Hamilton, Canon Era, Canon divergence at point of the duel, Eliza is a freaking Saint, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mostly freeform, Oral Sex, Past Laurens/Hamilton, Polyamorous Character, Smut, Sorryish, mild alcoholism, tags added as they apply
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 12:39:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8668021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: That fateful duel, onward.In which Alexander survives the duel but must face life with an incomplete spinal cord injury and a regretful dueling partner.





	1. The Duel

 Burr

 

I’ve never been so aware of the ground beneath my feet as I step onto the scene, I can feel it’s rocky surface through my shoes and I am grounded in my place. Alexander scans the scene, looking everywhere except at me. Fury rushes through me. This man has made a ruin of me, all my ambitions torn to shreds by him and him alone.

He pulls his gun and fiddles with the trigger before loading his gun. I’ve seen his face a million times but still I can’t read it. This may be the first time in his life the man has worn a blank expression. Hamilton wipes his glasses and puts them on. Why would he do that unless he intends to shoot? Will this be the end of me? All that Theo has is me. I will not leave her all alone. I take a deep breath and meet his gaze. Our seconds turn around along with the doctor.

At least they wont remember how nervous I looked in this moment. 

 

Hamilton

I stare into the eyes of the man before me. It may be the last face I ever see and I will be damned if I don’t see it clearly. If it ends here it’s just as well. I’ve imagined my death one hundred times over. In the war, in a hurricane, from the illness that took my mother. The fantasy is so familiar to me it’s nearly a memory. 

Is this where it ends for me?

I think of the letter I left Eliza, and the pamphlet to be published if I die. If Burr shoots he’ll ruin himself, even if I throw away my shot. 

I wonder what Phillip thought when he stood in this spot, before he lifted his gun to the air and fired? Did he read his opponents face, searching for a sign of intent? He died for me, for our family legacy. The least I can do for my son is to follow down his path. No honorable man kills another. I will follow through with my plan.

This is my second honor dispute with the man and it’s astonishing that we’ve made it this far. A man with no convictions should know nothing worth dying for, and Burr is such a man. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him as anything more. But I used to see him as more.

 

Burr.

It’s time. Ten paces then I take aim.

The bullet leaves my gun. The world will never be the same. 

It all happens in an instant. My shot rips through his flesh a few ribs down from where his heart is. His gun discharges into the air, soaring several feet above my head. Is that where he’d been aiming? His body collapses to the ground. Alexander, my old friend, what have I done?

I rush towards him but Van Ness grabs my arm.

“We have to go, now.”

I hear the words mumbled, “This is a mortal wound, doctor.” 

It’s not the voice of Nathaniel Pendleton, but Alexander. The entire world moves around me in a blur. I need a drink. Pendleton and Dr. Hosack are already pulling him to the boat at the edge of the Hudson, a trail of blood left behind. He makes no sound. Unconscious or dead already?

What have I done? What will become of me now?

And what of Alexander?

Van Ness drags me away from the scene and into town. There is crying and wailing in the streets, and it’s all because of me. Because of what I’ve done. I take shelter in my home, not saying a word. He sets a bottle of whisky in front of me, as though he knows exactly what I am thinking. 

I’ve never been a happy drunk, or even angry. Sorrow consumes me and the bottle is gone before I can realize I am even drinking. 

Van Ness draws my attention.

“Burr?”

I raise my head to look at him.

“Has he passed?”

“Not yet, but it is inevitable.”

“If my eyes hadn’t been impaired by the morning mist I would have shot him through the heart.” And it’s true of six hours ago, but not of now. I would do anything to take back my shot, to throw it away.

 

Hamilton. 

I force myself to take a breath and pain shoots throughout my body. The ground moves below me, and I struggle to focus on the sight before me. There is no point in it. 

“My vision is indistinct.” 

My eyes close and don’t open again. Philip is in front of me, a smile upon his face as he extends his hand out towards me. My mother’s hand his on his shoulder, a loving touch of his grandmother. He looks like her more than I ever realized, he looks like me.

Washington is watching from behind, he’s watching from the other side. 

Laurens enters my line of sight and he’s not a day over twenty seven. There’s music in the air and happiness wells inside of me. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him, my dearest Laurens. I will be with you soon. 

But Eliza-

I find it easier and easier to breath. The doctor presses on my side, just above the bullet wound. A moan of pain leaves my lips before I can contain myself. It won’t be long yet. With each jostle of the boat I feel my life leaving me.  

I can see now, we’re almost across the river. I try to even my breathing as I remember the gun. 

“Take care of that pistol; it’s undischarged and still cocked. It may go off and do harm. Pendleton knows,” I pause to take a breath but it’s too hard to turn my head towards him. “That I did not intend to fire at him.”

“I have already made Dr. Hosack acquainted with your determination as to that.” 

I take another breath and close my eyes. My Eliza, I have disappointed her so much in this life, only to let her down one more time. _Just stay alive, it would be enough._ I betrayed her when I fell into the wretched Reynolds trap, and again when I tried to clear my name. She had no problems with Laurens and I, but Maria was a mistake. I betrayed her love when I let our son, our dearest son be killed in a duel. Then for me to meet the same fate. I can’t imagine the look on her beautiful face when she realize’s I’ve betrayed her once again. How could I do this to her? Me and my pride, it’s finally gotten the best of me. 

The doctors hand is on my wrist, when I realize my surroundings again. 

“How is my pulse?”

“It’s there.”

“My legs are gone to me.” I say, the words coming in a slur. The bullet must be stuck against my spine. If only it traveled a little higher inside of me, then I wouldn’t feel every movement of my body rip through me like a cannon. 

The doctor’s expression says enough. 

I feel myself less and less and I am carried into my home. Eliza’s hand is wrapped around mine, so tight it feels more real than anything I’ve experienced. Where I expected anger at my decision, there is only love and affection. Worry isn’t a good look on her.

Anjelica comes from behind, her hand clasping my other. Despite the pain I can’t help but think it’s not a bad place to go, between the two women you love most.

“Burr did this?” She asks, her voice no more than an echo in my ears.

“It was a fair duel.” Pendleton states, disgust leaking into the tone of his voice. 

Burr did this, but I can’t help but recall the look on his face as he watched me fall. That was not a face of triumph, but a face of despair. 

“Alexander,” Eliza mutters softly into my hair. The sound of her voice is enough to calm me enough to regain my senses, if only for the faintest of moments. 

“Don’t forget about my letter. Send it to the papers.” It’s the last sentence I manage before I am lost.


	2. Moments of Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight suicidal ideation ahead.  
> And a couple feels.

Hamilton.

Laurens’ face is exactly as I remembered. His dark eyes are emotional, reminding me of a place in my soul I scarcely remember. He clasps his hand around mine. Maybe it’s not so bad on the other side. But then I look down and see my own hand with no scar running down my finger. The background comes into view and I realize that I’m not in the after life. This is a memory.

  
“Alexander.” Laurens says, leaning towards me. I almost forgot the way he said my name.

  
I lean into him as our lips press together. He is warm as I remember, tasting very vaguely of bourbon. I don’t want to pull away, but it doesn’t stop me from doing so.

  
His arm wraps around me and I want to ask if he knows we’re dead, but I can’t. It really is just a memory and I remember this night very well. Long before Eliza, he was mine.

  
“I love you Laurens.” The words leave my mouth as easy as breathing. Maybe the afterlife is just the repetition of my best memories. I certainly can’t say I would object.

  
“And I you.” He says, placing his hand on my shoulder. He pushes me into the cot, rolling on top of me. His body is pressed dangerously close to mine.

  
He was the first person I ever loved. The feelings never left when I met Eliza, they merely expanded. My heart was big enough for the both of them. It’s been too long since I’ve been blessed with his presence. He pulls away my collar and presses a kiss into my neck, a little nip at the end.

  
As he hooks his thumbs around the waistband of my pants and the scene changes, too soon.

  
Phillip is playing piano, my dearest Eliza beaming over him. The hint of laugh lines are just starting to form at the corners of her eyes, as beautiful as ever. That was before I betrayed her.

  
“Alexander, isn’t he wonderful?”

  
“He is.” I turn and sweep her up in a kiss, my hands tangling in her brown hair. I untangle myself before I feel ready.  
“Listen to this one Pa.” He says changing the melody into something of his own. He was so innocent then, not over the age of nine.

  
“He takes after you.” I say, catching Eliza’s eyes.

  
“He’s got your mind.”

  
“The perfect combination of both of us.” I say.

  
“He’s so much like-“

  
The scene changes again. Maybe this is what they talk about when they talk about one’s life flashing before their eyes just before they die.

  
Now I am not much older than eleven. My mother is in the kitchen of the small home in which we reside. I watch her from behind. Her light grey dress is yellowed slightly at the edges. My own clothes look a little better, although not by much. The smell of fresh baked bread drifts through the air. We didn’t have much, my mom and I, but she always made the most delicious bread. It was something I always enjoyed.

  
She turns to face me and my chest swells with emotion so strong I can’t be sure if it is happiness or sadness. I don’t remember this day, not really, although my subconscious must. She wears an expression much too old for her age and I can’t help but wonder if it is partially my fault. I had almost forgotten what her face looked like.

  
She sets a piece of bread in front of me on the table. 

  
“I love you son.” She says, giving me a soft pat on the shoulder.

  
“I love you too.” I say, watching as she pulls something from the cupboard.

  
“I have a little surprise for you.” It’s strawberry jam, one of my favorites, an extravagance not usually afforded, at least not anything but a special occasion.

  
“For me?”

  
“Just for you. You’ve been doing so good in your studies, you deserve it.”

  
And I remember this day now. I’m a couple years older than I realized, not long before my mother passed.

  
Another switch.

  
It’s the first I recognize instantly, a cruel taste of irony. If my life has to flash before my eyes, why is it Burr I see? Maybe it’s not the best of my memories, just the most impressionable.

  
“Pardon me, are you Aaron Burr sir?”

  
He turns to me, his smile even then having a hint of mischievousness to it. “That depends, who’s asking?”

  
“Oh well, sure, sir.” I was nervous in his presence, unsure.

  
“I’m Alexander Hamilton. I’m at your service, sir. I have been looking for you.” Wait.

  
“I’m getting nervous.” Too smooth, too suave.

  
I snap my eyes shut and refuse to relive this moment, my will is strong enough not to recall it. I won’t give the man occupancy in my head, not while I am dying of the wounds he inflicted on me. He no longer earns that privilege.

  
“Alexander.”

  
“Eliza.” I gasp, drawing in a sharp breath. Everything is a haze. I thought I was gone already. Pain runs like a river through me. Why am I not done with this agony? It’s a brutal awakening.

  
“Shh, I’m here.” She presses a kiss to my forehead and wiped the matted hair away from my eyes.

  
I focus on her face until I see her clearly. “How long has it been?”

  
“You’ve been in and out of consciousness for two days, but not coherent enough to speak, not until now.”

  
“I saw Phillip, Laurens, my mother…” I swallow hard, realizing how incredibly dry my mouth is. “Burr.”

  
Eliza senses my thirst and holds a small glass of water to my lips. “Small sips.” She holds my head up for me, but the pain remains anyway. “It was a dream then.”

  
“Not dreams,” I pause as to not choke on the water. “Memories.”

  
“I’ve missed you love.”

  
“You may have to miss me yet.” I say, the words coming out more somber than intended. My lower extremities have no sense of being and the pain in my side is more intense than I’ve ever experienced.

  
“Don’t say that.” The hint of a smile remaining on her lips fades.

  
Another person enters the room.

  
“You’re awake.” Angelica.

  
“Please go get the doctor.” Eliza asks, setting the glass of water to the side. I see a bottle of whisky on the table beside it.  
I try to nod towards it but the movement hurts too much. She reaches for it instantly.

  
“Save your strength.” She soothes, but the words hit me wrong. They were one of the last things she uttered to my son, our son.

  
“Eliza.”

  
She holds the bottle to my lips and I take as much as I can in one drink. At this point anything to dull the pain would be well invited.  
“Alexander.”

  
“I’m sorry,”

  
“Don’t be sorry.” She frets, offering me another drink.

  
“For everything I’ve done to you. I love you Eliza.”

  
“I know you do.”

  
Feeling warm from the whisky, I close my eyes again.  
  
Burr.  
I turn the pistol over in my hands, examining it’s every surface, then I turn it over again. There is a bullet lodged in the barrel, the second shot I had no need to take. I had no need to take the first but it didn’t stop me then.

  
I cock the hammer and point the gun towards ribs, exactly where the bullet pierced Hamilton. It’s a fleeting moment of weakness and I turn the gun away from myself. As far as I know Alexander is still alive. Thank God the man is a stubborn bastard.

  
Still, I likely deserve such a fate. What sort of man shoots his own friend? Not that we had been friends for a long time. His father in laws seat in congress put that behind us. A rival then is perhaps a better word. I had never met a man before him who could be so nervous and confidant all at once. It was a gift, really.

  
If he shot into the air, did he know the entire time that I was going to take my shot? Did he expect better of me? The man certainly held no qualms with voicing his opinion about me. He wouldn’t throw away his shot if he truly thought that I would kill him. No, Alexander held a higher opinion of my moral standing than I did, despite what he put in his papers.  
Unless he backed out at the last moment.

  
When Phillip died it would be assumed that he had changed his mind about dueling, but no, he took my challenge on. I found out later that we were in the same spot where his son was shot. Is that why he could not shot another?  
I may never find out.

  
I pray to God he lives long enough for me to find out.

  
That would mean he lives, although I hear it’s inevitable that he won’t.

  
I run my hand along the barrel of the gun and wonder how it would taste. I open my mouth and gingerly place the end of the gun inside, pointing upwards. Guilt is a powerful drug. Metallic, with the taste of gunpowder still on it’s metal. I close my eyes and hold it there. If I end it now I won’t be forced to see Theo’s face when she finds her father to be a murderer.

  
But what if I am not a murderer?

  
If I end it now I’ll never know.

  
I set the gun on the edge of the table, the hammer returned to a safer position. It’s time for a little walk I think, somewhere with cleaner air and less evidence of my crime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Hamilton survive?  
> Will Burr?


	3. A Letter

**Hamilton**

“Eliza?” I ask, catching her eyes across the room.

“Alexander, love.” She hurries towards me with a small metal tea tray and sets it beside my bed before kneeling beside me.

“What time is it?” My voice is so hoarse it sounds foreign to me.

“Around nine.”

“Has Hosack been here today?” I ask, shivering slightly. It’s remarkably cool for the middle of July.

“Before you woke, yes.”

“I heard him speaking last night. As I find myself awake again, another day passed, I imagine my chances are greatly improved.” I pause, wincing as I attempt to lift my head. Eliza quickly slips my pillow under my neck, away from the head of the bed. “Unfortunately the pain levels don’t seem to be diminished so I would imagine it’s not healing as of yet. Did he say anything about the wound?” I inhale a deep breath, pain shooting through my body except that-

“Alexander.”

“My legs are rather dead to me still.” I take an inventory of the rest of my body. The entirety of my abdomen is throbbing dully.

“Alexander.” 

“I don’t imagine I’ll recover those, if I recover at-“

“Love, save your strength.”

“I have so many things to say Eliza.”

“You’ll have time to get them out, but you must rest.” She places her hand on my forehead, running it back over my hair. “You’re already running out of breath. You need to rest.”

“Eliza,” I say my eyes connecting with hers. “Would you get me a pen?”

“That’s not much better Alex.”

I take another deep breath. “I need to write a letter.”

“You need to rest.”

“I need to make a statement.”

“You need to get better.” 

“I need to get this out.”

“You need to stay alive.” Her voice comes out nearly more harsh than I’ve ever heard it.  

“Am I not in the clear yet then?”

A sigh leaves her lips. “You were a bit fevered this morning when the doctor came by and it doesn’t feel as though it’s improving.”

“Shhh.” I say, reaching up to brush a tear from her eye with much difficulty. My body is stiffer than I realized.

She latches onto my hand and presses it to her lips.  
“Eliza I-“

“I brought you some ginger tea,” She says, pouring half a cup from the little pot. “It might help with your fever.”

I take a tentative sip as she places the cup against my lips. It soothes my throat more easily than I expected.  
“Please Eliza, I just need to write one thing down. Three sentences, a paragraph, no more than that.”

Her frown twists into half of a smile. “Even as you lie on what could have very well been your death bed, you still want to write? I suppose it’s truly a testament to your character.”

“You can write it down for me, I just want it recorded.”

“Rest Alexander, stop talking if even for a moment.”

“Will you write it down for me if I do?”

“Alexander,”

I bite my tongue.

“Talk less. Just breathe.”

The words spark something within me as sadness grows in the pit of my stomach. My anger at Burr has faded, if only enough to make me pity him. He will likely soon be defenestrated from office if he hasn’t been already. And he thought my pride would be the death of us all. I bite my tongue and nod as she lifts the cup to my lips and I take another sip.

She places the back of her hand against the side of my neck and frowns.

I reach out to place my hand on her shoulder but freeze. Pain shoots through my body like a canon. My vision goes hazy as pain similar to that of a knife’s blade hits my back.

“Alexander.” Her voice is worried.

“I’m alright.” I say, collapsing back into the bed. The throbbing in my body has increased to a degree where I can no longer disregard it.

“Do you need something stronger to drink?”

“No.” I stop myself from shaking my head to avoid more pain. I will need to keep my wits about me to have my words recorded. “I’m alright my love.”

“I’ll be right back.” She says, shortly returning with a dampened wash cloth as well as a piece of parchment and a pen.

“I’ll write, you talk. Slowly,” She adds, laying the washcloth across my head.

“Aaron Burr,”

“Alexander.” She reprimands, furrowing her eyebrows. “No.”

“It’s but three sentences, love. I just need to tell him one thing.”

“Alex-“

“Please, Eliza.” Her facial expression softens.

“Aaron Burr,”

“Aaron Burr,”

“Sir, I wish to inform you of my regret in regards to our recent duel, in which I mistakenly fired in your direction.”

“That’s a long sentence Alex.”

I ignore her tone and continue. “I had no intentions of taking aim at you sir, but as the bullet from your pistol pierced through my side my finger laid heavy on the trigger.”

She bites at her bottom lip as she slides the pen across the paper.

“I am sure you will find sir that the results of our duel should be satisfied in your eyes and there is no need for us to have any hostile feelings.”

“You have got to be kidding me Alexander. He literally tried to kill you.” Eliza huffs.

“I have doubts as to that, the man is a horrid shot. Regardless, as it currently stands, I live.”

“Do you really want to tell this man, this man that nearly ended your life, that you have no hostile feelings towards him?”

“Is it better to die with an angry heart?”

This breaks her constitution. “It’s better to not die at all, Alexander.”

“This is important to me.”

She leans forward and places a kiss on my cheek. Her lips are cool on my skin. “If this is what you want.”

“Eliza?” I pause, trying to decide on my wording. “Are the children aware of my condition?”

“How could they not be Alex? Angelica was in the front room when they brought you in covered in blood.”

“Can I see them?”

“My sister took them out for the day. This house as become a dark place as of late.”

“I’m sorry Eliza, for all the trouble I have caused you.”

  
“You can make it up to me soon, just do me a favor.”

  
“What?”

  
“Get better.”

 **Aaron**  
Van Ness visits me every day, updating me on the political shit storm brewing outside as well as on Alexander’s condition. But today is different, he simply drops off a letter and then leaves.

  
I unfold the envelope and pull out the letter. It’s not in a handwriting I recognize so I almost disregard it. I’m sure it’s only a matter of days before hate mail directed at me starts arriving. However something inside of me makes me decide the letter needs my attention.

  
_Aaron Burr,_  
_Sir, I wish to inform you of my regret in regards to our recent duel, in which I mistakenly fired in your direction. I had no intentions of taking aim at you sir, but as the bullet from your pistol pierced through my side my finger laid heavy on the trigger. I am sure you will find sir that the results of our duel should be satisfied in your eyes and there is no need for us to have any hostile feelings._

  
There is no signature at the bottom, and it’s not in his hand but the wording makes it evident enough that this letter is from Alexander. Even laid up in bed suffering from a potentially mortal wound, the man never shuts up.  
It almost makes me laugh.

  
But I am in no situation to laugh. The fact that it is not written in his hand is concerning and I have no doubt that the man would use his last words to defend his honor, which is what the letter seems to be doing.

  
Then again, no need for hostile feelings might be the closest thing to forgiveness the man has ever offered me. He’s held a grudge over every little thing over the course of the last thirty years, but shooting him… That’s forgivable.

I feel a laugh rip from my throat as I consider it’s absurdity. I fold the letter and tuck it into the breast pocket of my shirt. It feels like something I need to keep close to me.

  
If he’s in well enough condition to write me a letter there’s a very good chance the bastard is going to pull through. My chest feels lighter than it has in a week. Maybe I should write the man back. Would anyone deem it necessary to pass my letter on to him if I tried?  
I walk to the desk in the back of the room and uncap a pen.

  
_Dear Alexander,_  
_I hope that you are feeling better in no time._

  
I wad it up and toss it in the trash.

  
_Dear Alexander,_  
_It seems as though you are recovering quickly which gives me great pleasure to hear._

  
No.

  
_Dear Alexander,_  
_I am pleased to hear of your intentions of having no hostility towards me as I myself have no hostility towards you. I am also pleased to hear that you are recovering well enough to be dictating letters. I have no doubt that you will soon be back to your old self in a small matter of time. Please give my regards to your family and wife._  
_A.Burr_


	4. Recovery

  
**Alexander Hamilton.**

“A letter for you.” Eliza says, slipping the envelope into my hands. She hands me my glasses and allows me to read for myself. 

“Thank you Eliza.” I say, flinching as she lifts the hem of my shirt up over my wound. The light infection I acquired has improved greatly, but the entirety of my abdomen is still inflamed and tender to the touch.

“I have to change the dressing love, I’m sorry.” She says, pulling at the edge of the gauze plastered to my skin. 

A small groan leaves my lips at the pain of the sensation. “It’s okay.”

“Are you feeling any better today?”

“To be honest, I feel like I’ve been shot.” I grimace. “Beyond that I don’t feel much of anything.”

She places her hand on my leg which I see but do not feel. “Your color is better today.” She decides as she cleans the outside of my wound.

I distract myself with the letter.  
  
_Dear Alexander,_  
_I am pleased to hear of your intentions of having no hostility towards me as I myself have no hostility towards you. I am also pleased to hear that you are recovering well enough to be dictating letters. I have no doubt that you will soon be back to your old self in a small matter of time. Please give my regards to your family and wife._  
_A.Burr_  
  
In all honestly I had not expected a letter back from him. I read over the words carefully, trying to decide if they are meant in the passive aggressive tone I am perceiving. 

“Ah.” The sound leaves my throat before I can stop it as Eliza rubs the cloth straight against my wound.

“Shh.” She hushes me, pressing a kiss to my forehead. It’s terribly patronizing but I cannot be angry with her for it. She has done so much for me, especially in these latest times. Truly a saint, my Eliza is.

“I need a pen.” I decide, eyeing the letter in my hands once more.

“Once I’ve finished with this.”

“Burr has sent me a letter you see.”

“Oh?” She asked, her facial expression taking on a darker look at the edges.

“He sends his regards.”

“Does he regret what he’s done?”

“Perhaps something like it. Regardless I need to send him a response.”

“If you must.” She decides, pulling my shirt back down over my stomach.

 _Dear Aaron,_  
_I regret to inform you that contrary to your previous letter, I will not be back to my old self in a small matter of time. I will not be back to myself at any time on the current continuum. Although I survived the initial injury and subsequent infection I won’t be making a recovery beyond those two things. You see, the bullet that you so honorably shot into my gut also lodged against my spine and therefore I have been rendered incapable of moving or feeling anything below that point._  
_As it presently stands I am happy to have my life but less than overjoyed at the loss of my freedom. However I am more than grateful for your well wishes and letter. I eagerly await your next letter._  
_Your obedient servant,_  
_A.Ham_  
_‘_  
“It’s not the loss of your freedom.” Eliza says, peering over my shoulder.

“It’s been over a week and the best improvement I’ve made in the way of my legs is that my left leg seems to hurt at times despite having no other sensation.”

“There’s always hope it will improve as the swelling goes down. That’s what doctor Hosack said.”

“And you know as well as I do that if there is a chance of recovery I’m stubborn enough to achieve it. As it stands, I don’t feel that it’s an actual possibility.”

“Alexander.” She lays her hand on my shoulder, a certain sadness in her soul my soul refuses to tolerate.

“I’ll do my best Eliza.” It’s a promise. “For now I focus on getting over the wound in my stomach.”

Wordlessly, she leans forward and presses a soft kiss into my lips. It’s the most intimate contact I’ve had with her since the duel and I can’t help but feel happiness growing inside of me.

**Aaron Burr.**

“It’s barely ten in the morning.” Van Ness notes as he steps into the front door of my home.

“And your point is?”

“The bottle in your hand is nearly empty.” He nods towards the tinted glass bottle in my hand. 

“It’s been a rough week.” I say, dismissing the bottle and setting it on the end table. If he’d nearly killed an old friend he would have reacted the same way. As it stands, that bottle and those like it are the only reason I’ve gotten any rest at all.

Van Ness hands me a letter.

The relief I feel in my chest when I see the letter is in Alexander’s hand is more intense than I care to admit. It’s a sign, a great sign at that. Maybe, just maybe, the guilt growing inside of me can be quelled. The thought now, after the fact, that I may have ended

Alexander’s life has been nearly too much to bare.

I read the letter out loud.

“So he’s paralyzed?” Van Ness asks as I fold the letter up and toss it haphazardly onto my desk.

“So it seems.” I say, contemplating the implication of such a thing.

“But obviously not in his hands.” Van Ness scoffs, folding his arms. “Looks like he’ll be berating you in the papers in no time. You should have aimed that bullet higher and saved yourself the trouble.”

“Don’t say that.” I snap, shooting him a glare. 

“My apologies Aaron, but I’m sure you must realize that you are the one who shot him and not I.”

“You should leave, if you would be so kind.”

“As you wish.” He says, his hand on the doorknob. “But from now on Burr,”

“What?”

“Go get your own damn mail.”

I shake my head as he exits through the front door. As good of shape as Hamilton is in, I should be safe to go out on my own now.  
I take my pen to a piece of paper, unable to decide on words to say. I want to say I’m sorry for the path we set upon and the results of said path. But to apologize, to admit wrongdoing would be the end of me as much as anything else. It doesn’t stop the need to say something. If I say nothing my conscience will ruin me just the same.

_Dear Alexander,_  
_I am saddened to hear of your disability._

  
Which is to say I am sad to hear of the disability I caused. That won’t work. Perhaps I should refrain from sending a letter to Alexander at all. Mrs. Hamilton after all, would be most likely to be more honest and less flowery with her words.  
  
_Dear Elizabeth,_  
_I am deeply saddened by the recent news of the extent of your husband’s injury. I regret, not our duel, but the extent of the inflictions I have imparted on Mr. Hamilton. I have always found you to be an agreeable woman by nature and I beg of you to tell me one thing. How is Alexander, truly? If there is anything I can do to ease the suffering of your family please do not hesitate to let me know. Although, knowing Alexander’s strong suits, the most highly valuable parts seem to remain intact._  
_A.Burr_

It takes a week to receive anything back but when I do I am less than disappointed.

_Dear Mr. Burr,_  
_I met your letter with both frustrations and sadness, although I presume your intentions were honorable. Continuing in the vein of such honor, I will answer your question honestly. He is mentally as quick as always although his physical motions are still somewhat muted, even in the upper half of his body._  
_There has been little to no progress with his lower half however. He has regained the smallest amount of feeling in his left leg, but he is still unable to move either. The doctor thinks he may continue to regain small amounts of feeling in his lower half but neither of us, Hosack or I, are particularly hopeful of such things._  
_E.Ham_

So he is making a recovery, albeit a slow one. That’s all I need to hear to get the first good night’s sleep I’ve had in a month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I must ask the question, would you lovely people prefer frequent short updates as I have been doing or longer chapters with more time between?


	5. A Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, a little bit of smut ahead and a lot of bit of feels. (At least for my fragile heart)  
> I've spent maybe six or seven hours in the past week doing research on incomplete spinal cord injuries which seems a bit extreme to me for a fan fiction project but we're going to pretend it's normal.

**Alexander Hamilton**  
I look up from the newspaper to Eliza walking into the room, little Phil sitting on her hip.

“Pa!” He says excitedly, fighting to exit his mother’s grasp and make his way towards me. He climbs up into the bed before I have the chance to say a word and promptly plants a kiss on my cheek.

“How is my little boy today?” I ask, ruffling his dark curly hair as I toss the newspaper on the bedside table.

“Good.” It comes out as half a giggle. Nothing seems to brighten my spirits more.

“Eliza, could you help me onto my side?”

“Here.” She says, offering me a hand. She pulls my right side forward, quickly propping a spare pillow behind my back.

Thank you, I mouth silently.

“It seems they’ve spared no time in shaming Burr in the papers.” I say, nodding towards the article on the front page.

“It’s been nearly a month.”

“I wonder how he’s taking it.”

“Well, you may find out yourself.” She says, taking the tone only used when the man is mentioned as she places a letter in my hand.

“Papers.” Little Phil notes, very proud of himself.

“Yes son.” I say unfolding the envelope.

 _Dear Alexander,_  
_I thought originally to write this letter to you under false pretense. Perhaps under the guise of needed political advice or something of the nature. However both you and I would know it to be a farce. As I’m sure you can imagine, my political career is over, not that it was something I would have asked you for advice for in the first place. I’ve just felt a deep seated need to write you._  
_Over the past month I have been forced into the situation of doing a lot of thinking about things I would rather not be thinking about, you being one of these things. I am thinking of you Alexander, make of it what you will. You have been taking your recovery at such a rapid rate I have to wonder if it is not just to prove the world wrong. Everyone thought you were destined for death after your injury. Everyone was also pleased to hear you are recovering, myself included among them. Tell me, have you made any additional progress in your recovery?_  
_A.Burr._

“What did he say?”

“A lot of words with no real meaning.” I scoff, scanning over the letter once more. “He wants to know how my recovery is going.”

“Will you tell him?”

“What is there to say to him? That I am no longer pissing myself?”

“Alexander.” She scolds.

“Mama’s mad.” Little Phil decides.

“I’m sorry Eliza.” I wink at her, eliciting the faintest hint of a smile.

 **Aaron Burr**  
  
_Dear Aaron Burr,_  
_Sir, I was surprised by your admittance to the fact your political career is over. A man with a sense of pride as strong as yours is generally too proud to admit such a thing. If it is of any comfort, I do not believe that your career is over. In fact by the time I’ve recovered to the fullest extent possible for myself in my condition I believe they may have forgotten all about this little blunder._  
_I myself have made my fair share of political blunder as I’m sure you are able to recall, the entire Reynolds affair being the scandal in question. By now the majority of the public has forgotten about it almost entirely. I have more to say on the matter but I would rather not digress into that subject with you on paper. I don’t want another fight. In fact, I would be fine if I never fought with another soul for the rest of my days. The past few years have all but ravaged my willingness to fight, this last incident being the metaphorical straw._  
_As far as my recovery goes, well, I’ve not gotten very far. I can now pick up various sensations on my left side, although the feeling is weak and maybe a fraction of what it used to be. My right leg is still as useless as it has been over the course of the past four weeks but now it has the annoying habit of twitching at the most inopportune times. This is an occurrence only visually observed and not felt. The wound in my gut is now to the point where I am able to sit upright in a chair, aided by my wife or one of my children, although I am still confined to my room. Thankfully, the words I write are not._

  
_A.Ham_

I fold the letter up and toss it in the drawer of my desk. There’s nothing I can do to take back what I’ve done, but perhaps there is something I can do to make his life a bit easier.

  
I take count of my savings and write a letter, not to Hamilton, but to his doctor.

**Alexander Hamilton**

“I have something for you.” Eliza announces, opening the doors to our bedroom.

“What is that?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow at her as she pulls something behind her in through the door.

“It’s a wheel chair.” She states proudly, gesturing to the contraption. “Now we can get you to other parts of the house easily.”

“That’s amazing Eliza. The children will be thrilled.” Not that I won’t be also. The past five weeks have taken a toll on me beyond the actual wounds.

“It’s not the easiest to maneuver.” She parks the chair beside the bed and grabs ahold of my hand. “But it’s better than I imagined.”

“Where did it come from? It had to have been expensive.” I note the leather covering the cushion of the chair.

“I’m not entirely sure to be honest. It was left on the doorstep addressed to you but with no name. Regardless I am more than excited about it.”

“We’ll have to find out where it came from.” I say, deciding that if it works a fervent thank you letter is in order. Such a thing would have the potential to greatly change my prospects at life, even if it did not provide complete freedom for myself.

“Come on.” She wraps her arms around my waist and tugs me towards her.

I wrap my arms around her shoulders as she shifts me into the chair. It’s close enough in height to the bed that the transfer is easy enough. I still feel a sharp twinge in my side but it’s only enough to catch me a little short of wind.

“How does it feel?”

“Not terrible.” I say, noticing that there’s no real way for me to move myself in the chair. It’s a design that could use improvement, but I am in no position to complain.

“Good.” Eliza says, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss against my lips. She tastes like honey on my lips as my own part to match hers.

She straddles over me in the chair, the light fabric of her dress pulled up around her hips. I know her well enough that I don’t have to ask her what she wants and it will be the first time since the duel. I run my hand up the inside of her thigh, caressing her skin there. It makes a lovely blush spread across her cheeks.

“Alexander,” She whispers softly, resting her forehead against mine.

I run my thumb along the edge of her slit, pressing just enough to tease her. I may not be able to do everything I used to, but I can at least give her this.

A small moan leaves her perfect pink lips.

“So beautiful.” I mutter as I slowly slide a finger inside of her.

“More.” It comes out softly but I know a demand when I hear one.

I slip another finger inside of her and reposition my hand so that my thumb is lightly pressing against her clit. I curl my fingers forward over and over in rapid succession. It comes natural to me, a path I could never forget.

“Alexander.”

“Keep making those pretty sounds for me love.” I stroke her hair with my free hand, increasing the pressure of my thumb as I move it in soft circles.

“I’m-“

“Come on lovely.”

A sound of pleasure rips from her throat as she tenses up, a slow but powerful throbbing around my fingers. I work her through it, watching as some of the built up stress fades from her face.

I remove my hand and pull her into a tight embrace.

“I love you Eliza.”

“Mmm,” She replies, slowly removing herself from my lap. “I love you too.”

She places a soft kiss against my lips, her fingers trailing down my chest. She pauses at the waistband of my pants before hooking her fingers around it and gently tugging them down.

“Eliza, what are you doing?” I ask, my heart rate quickening at the sensation.

“I need to take care of you in a different way now..” She says, wrapping her hand around my soft endowment. “I think it will do wonders for your recovery.”

“Eliza, I’m not sure that’s going to-“

“Let me try Alexander.”

I let out an exasperated sigh as she gently pumps her hand up and down. I can feel her movements although it’s not nearly as strong as it used to be.

“You’re getting hard.” She notes, looking into my eyes lustfully.

“That doesn’t mean- Oh.” I freeze as she wraps her lips around the tip, sucking as she takes more of me into her warm mouth. The sensation is spotty but it’s enough. “Eliza,”

She offers me a soft moan in response, digging her fingernails into my hips. Up until this moment I had no idea exactly how bad I needed her in this way.

I run my fingers through her dark hair, entangling them in it just as I used to.

“That’s-“

She hums softly, the vibrations sending a small wave of pleasure through me.

“So good. Oh love,” I want to buck my hips up into her mouth but it’s not an option for me now.

She replaces her mouth with her hand and looks up with me, her lips glistening. “Is this alright?”

“It’s great.” I assure her, leaning my head back against the chair, but keeping my eyes on her.

“You’re still my Alexander.”

“Always love.” I pant, my hands balling up at my sides. “I’m sorry I’m taking so long.”

“Are you not enjoying it?” She asks, the faintest hint of a frown forming at the corners of her mouth.

“Of course I am.”

“Then that’s all that matters.” She says before taking me back into her mouth.

I allow myself to play with her hair, the rustling motion releasing the scent of lavender into the air. She responds with a soft playful sound, removing her hand from my thigh and running it up my stomach, her finger tips gently playing over the furious red scar forming on my side. It’s sensitive but not in a way that hurts when she’s touching so lightly.

“Hey,” I whisper softly, placing my hand on her shoulder.

She continues to move, only slowing her pace slightly.

“Hey,” I grip her shoulder.

She pulls off and looks at me, her eyes watering slightly.

“This, this isn’t going anywhere. I-“

“I’m sorry.” She frowns.

“No, it was good, Eliza, love, you are so good.”

“I know it’s not the same as it used to be but-“

“No,” I grab her wrists and pull her closer to me. “It was perfect, you’re perfect.”

“Someday we’ll get there.” My wife, the woman I adore promises.

“I know.” I reply, trying not to let the sadness in my heart leak into my voice.


	6. Small Miracles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angelica Hamilton suffered a nervous breakdown when her brother Philip died and lived the rest of her life completely unpresent. No one ever seems to talk about her and it breaks my heart.

**Alexander**

“Angelica wants to see you.” Eliza says, her voice hesitant.

I look up from the newspaper I am reading, lowering my glasses. “Tell her to come over. Our dearest sister is always welcome here.”  
  
“No, our daughter, Alexander.” Eliza says, the hint of a smile crossing her lips.   
  
When Philip died Angelica was distraught, completely destroyed by his loss. They had always been incredibly close, best friends in addition to siblings. For months after his death she sat in her room, staring at the wall without being able to speak so much as a word. She ate with much prompting but beyond that she was lost to us as well.

The first time she spoke again was the day Little Phil was born. But it was confused mumbles, not the eloquent speech of the daughter I loved so dearly. I bought her pet parakeets and hand watermelons, one of her favorite treats, brought to her, but it was not enough. The only words she could form were to ask for her older brother, the only request I could not begin to fill.  
Her condition had not improved in the time since his passing. Eliza had told me that she had been in the front room when I was brought in after my duel. I was terrified that it would only serve to make her condition worse, but if she was asking for me, maybe she could improve.

“She is asking for me?” I choke the words out, suddenly overcome by emotion.

“Only one sentence, but yes.” A small tear rolls down the cheek of my dearest wife.

“Take me to her.” I urge, rolling my chair forwards by pulling myself along the edge of the bed.

“Are you certain?”

“Why would I be anything but certain? If my daughter is asking for me, I will spend every possible moment with her. She deserves that much from me at least.” I huff, pushing myself past the end of the bed.

“Of course.” Eliza concedes. “But do not get your hopes terribly high my love. I am not hopeful that this is more than a fleeting moment of clarity.”

“It’s the first time she’s asked for anything aside from her brother.” I say as Eliza rolls my chair out of the room. “I’ll be damned if she doesn’t get it.”

“I love you both.” She says and I have to wonder if she is speaking to me at all.

“Angelica.” I say as she comes into view. She’s sitting on the couch, curled halfway into a ball, the skirt of her yellow dress flowing over the cushions of the couch. Her hair is brushed and pulled back into a neat braid, no doubt the work of my wife. The expression she wears makes me nervous as it is all too peaceful for someone with so much turbulence inside of her.

“Dad?” The word doesn’t roll off of her tongue like it used to. It sounds uneasy, much like the first words a person utters of a new language.

“Dearest daughter I am so happy to hear your voice.” I say nonetheless because it is true.

“I thought-“ She pauses, her nose wrinkling up as though she is in deep thought.

“What is it?”

“I thought you-“

I tentatively reach out and place my hand over hers. I rub my thumb into the palm of her hand, trying to soothe whatever pain she is experiencing.

“I thought you died.” She says as though it’s a question.

“No honey, I’m right here.” I assure her, guilt running through me like an electrical shock.

“I remember, they brought you in. There was so much blood. But then-“

“Shhh, it’s okay.” Eliza whispers quietly, her hand on Angelica’s shoulder.

“But then I heard your voice in the other room. It was clearer than Philip’s.”

“I’m fine honey. I’m right here.” I say, squeezing her hand despite the pain the leaning position causes me.

“I- I don’t understand.” She says after a moment of silence.

“There was an accident.” Eliza decides, which I don’t blame her for. “But your father is okay now. He’s fine now. Everything is fine now.”

“An accident?”

“It’s okay now Angelica.” I comfort, no longer able to lean forward to touch her. I slump back in the chair. “It’s all going to be okay now.”

“And Philip…” She trails off.

“Your brother-“ Eliza begins.

“He’s gone.” Angelica cuts in, the confusion in her eyes fading. “I don’t hear him anymore. Where did he go?”

“He’s-“

I cut in, stopping Eliza. “He’s gone honey, but we are here. We will always be here.”

“Promise?”

“I promise honey.” I say, unable to stop the tears from flowing now. She’s not the same by any means, but perhaps she is on her way back to us. The thought strikes both sadness and happiness into my heart in great amounts.

  
**Aaron Burr**

_Dear Aaron,_   
_It came with great difficulty and without much guilt but I was able to pull from the doctor exactly where my chair came from. I am incredibly grateful for it, despite the fact that without you I would not have needed it in the first place. I have been able to get around the house with much less difficulty which has much improved the lives of both my family and myself. In short, I wish to thank you._   
_I have made some additional progress in my recovery which has surprised us all, Hosack, my wife, and myself. I am now able to move my right leg, albeit minimally. It is still cause to celebrate. I cannot feel pain or heat with it but in my left I can. The doctor is a bit perplexed by it but suggests that further recovery may be possible._   
_I have been keeping up with reading the papers and I am nearly ashamed of some of the things which I have seen written. If I had not accepted your challenge to a duel, none of this would have happened, but as I am sure you are well aware, it would have been dishonorable for me to reject your request._   
_Still, you are the only one being attacked in the papers which pains me slightly. Even if you did nearly remove me from life, you did so in a fair manner. I am writing now, in full truth, to request your permission to publish an article of my own in the paper defending your honor._   
_It may seem odd to you Aaron, why I would do such a thing after you have shot me. But it stands true despite all that has happened, you are my friend, perhaps even my oldest friend. Though we may not agree, on anything actually, that does not change the fact of what you are to me. I have enclosed a copy of the article which I am requesting permission to publish within this letter. I kept it short and sweet, believe it or not._

_Your obedient servant,_   
_A.Ham_

I folded the letter and sat it aside. I would have to have a word with Dr. Hosack at the earliest opportunity. It was rather important to me that Hamilton not find out that I had gifted them the chair, although I wasn’t completely sure why.

It wasn’t as though we had never been friends. It would be a normal gesture to offer such a gift in the event of a friend’s injury, especially if I had caused said injury. Why did the thought of him knowing where the chair came from make me so nervous?   
  
I grabbed the second folded piece of paper out of the envelope and carefully opened it. Surprisingly enough, Ham had kept it short and sweet for once in his life.

**In Regards to my Duel with Aaron Burr**  
_The duel which occurred on July 11th, 1804 involving Aaron Burr and myself was a fair duel. I want to state that and allow it to remain in the open for the duration of time. While I did not take aim at Vice President Burr he was not pre informed of this detail and was well within his rights to take aim at me. I want no action to be brought against him and wish only for this matter to be put behind us, Burr and myself._

I take out my pen and jot down a response.

_Dear Alexander,_   
_I find the proposed article to be acceptable but i wish to ask one thing of you. Would it be agreeable to you if I added an additional part to the article to be published directly after yours in the same column? I am overjoyed to hear of your increasing wellness and I hope it continues on an upward climb._   
_Your obedient servant,_   
_A. Burr_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for the long time between updates. I tend to update whatever is getting the most attention because I feel like people are waiting on it. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and feel free to leave any suggestions! <3


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